Page 169 of Sins of Innocence

"Every night I lie there listening to you breathe and think about dragging you into the shower so I can hear you scream my name."

Oh lord. "But even the shower isn't loud enough to drown out my screams."

Not with mom only ten feet away, even if she is across the hall. Not with the girls in their beds on the other side of the wall.

"Exactly." The savage frustration in his voice makes my tummy flutter.

He pulls out about halfway before sliding back in slow inch by slow inch.

Then he buries his face in my neck and inhales hard. "You smell like home now."

The words make my eyes sting.

"I am your home." And he's mine.

He might not be ready to hear that, but it's the truth.

What follows isn't just sex, no matter what his heart feels. It's making love.

Passionate, profound and beautiful.

Afterward, we lay together in the quiet.

No cartoons playing in the next room. No Joy bouncing on the couch like she swallowed a battery. No kettle whistling while mom bustles around the kitchen. No high pitched voices reminding us we're not alone.

Just silence.

And Kieran stretched out beside me on top of the tangled sheets while I try to remember how breathing works.

Again.

I trace his tattooed chest and battle scarred skin with my fingertip. "How does it keep getting better?"

It's a real question, but logic tells me there's no real answer.

"I don't know." There's a bewildered tinge to his deep voice that makes me smile.

"That makes two of us."

I touch the bandage on his upper arm lightly. The surgical tape has held well and the square of gauze is pristine, despite whatever he was up to last night. "Thank you for keeping it on."

"You told me to." He looks at me and winks. "In your mom voice."

"I did. If there's a first aid kit here, I'll change it before we leave."

"Later." Which confirms there is a kit, but that Kieran has no interest in using it right now.

"Later works."

We keep touching, his hand brushing up and down my back, my fingers exploring his chest and abs.

But it's not sexual. It's connection.

"If I didn't have an IUD," I say softly, staring at the gauzy curtain covered windows. "I would probably be pregnant already."

There's a wistful note in my voice I don't entirely understand myself.

Kieran goes very still beside me.